


Tom and the Bad Man: A Breton Folktale

by joyofthejoui



Series: Apocrypha [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 14:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyofthejoui/pseuds/joyofthejoui
Summary: "Sheor (Bad Man): In Bretony, the Bad Man is the source of all strife. He seems to have started as the god of crop failure, but most modern theologians agree that he is a demonized version of the Nordic Shor, born during the dark years after the fall of Saarthal." - Varieties of Faith in the Empire(Apocrypha written for r/teslore.)





	Tom and the Bad Man: A Breton Folktale

Once upon a time, not so very far away, there lived a wealthy knight with three sons. In the gods’ good time, the knight took ill and called his sons to his deathbed to distribute his wealth among them. To his oldest son, he left his farm and home, to his middle son his sword and armour, but when he came to his youngest son, Tom, there was nothing much left to give him. The knight racked his brains how to provide for his youngest son, and remembered that long ago, his mother’s folk had farmed a small field upon the fells. The field lay long abandoned, but Young Tom could try his hand at reclaiming it.

So after his father’s death, Tom went up upon the fells to seek his field. It was small and covered with weeds, but Tom went to clearing it with a will and soon he was ready to sow his first crop.

But while he readying to sow barley, a tall stranger, dressed all in red, came to his field.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my field?” asked Tom.

“Your field?” replied the stranger. “Why, Tom, this is my field. I’ve been landlord to your forefathers and foremothers for many a long year. By rights, half the harvest from this field belongs to me.”

When the stranger said this, Tom knew it must be the Bad Man himself and he would have no chance fighting him. However, he was not ready to give over half his harvest to the Bad Man.

“Half the harvest, eh?” he asked. “Which half would you like then? The half that grows over the ground or the half below the ground? I’ll give you the first choice seeing as you’re the landlord here.”

The Bad Man laughed, taking Tom for a simpleton. “I’ll take all that grows above the ground, Tom.”

“Will you spit upon that?”

The Bad Man spat upon the promise and they shook hands.

For the next few months, Tom saw neither hide nor hair of the Bad Man while he laboured in his fields. Instead of barley, he planted turnips, and his plants grew well, much better than one would expect from a field upon these barren fells.

At harvest-time, the Bad Man came again, carrying a large sack over his shoulder. “I’m here for my half,” he told Tom.

“Then take it,” said Tom, pointing to the leafy tops of the turnips.

The Bad Man went into a rage when he saw how he had been tricked. But he’d spat upon his deal with Tom, and could not go back on his word.

“Next year, you can take what’s above the earth, and I’ll take what’s below the earth,” he told Tom before he left.

When spring came, Tom got to work sowing barley in the field. It grew into a fine crop. Come harvest, the Bad Man returned with his sack, ready to take his half away. Tom pointed him to the roots of the barley.

The Bad Man’s rage was greater than the first time, but he had made the deal and could do nought to harm Tom or take away his harvest.

“Which half would you like next year?” Tom asked the Bad Man.

“You’re no tenant of mine,” said the Bad Man. “I’ll take none of your harvest from now on.” He stomped away with his empty sack.

Over the winter, Tom would often boast to his kin and friends about how he’d sent the Bad Man away with nothing. They warned him that the Bad Man did not give up so easily, but the next spring, the Bad Man did not show his face, and Tom sowed both barley and turnips.

The last two years, Tom’s crops had grown well without much effort on his part, but this year, all manners of misfortune befell him. Drought, hail, worms and bugs that ate away at his crop. Come harvest time, Tom had only a handful of worm-eaten turnips and a few stalks of barley to show for all his work.

He was looking over this dismal harvest when the Bad Man paid him another visit.

“Well, Tom,” spoke the Bad Man. “How does it suit you, being the master of your own farm?”

“You ruined my crops!” Tom cried.

“I watch over my own crops,” the Bad Man replied. “You are no longer my tenant, don’t you remember?”

Tom was fit to burst. “I won’t work this field again,” he told the Bad Man. “And so you’ll get nothing from it. How does that suit you?”

“Not so well,” the Bad Man admitted. “This is one of my favourite fields.”

“Then let’s come to another deal,” said Tom. “I’ll set aside some of my harvest for you, every year. Neither tops nor bottoms, but the best of my harvest, a sack full. My sack, not yours,” he added, for he doubted the Bad Man’s sack had any sort of bottom to it.

“I’m owed half,” the Bad Man replied. “Why should I take only a small sack?”

“Because I’ll keep farming this field, and so shall my children, and you’ll never lack a share of this harvest. If you won’t take the sack, I’ll return to the valley and this field will lie waste again.”

The Bad Man saw the gain in Tom's plan and agreed to it. Then and there, they spat upon the deal, and the Bad Man vanished, never to be seen again by Tom.

Tom’s farm prospered ever after upon those rugged fells. Folk wondered how each year, even in drought, Tom brought in a fine harvest. It was only to his wife and children that Tom revealed his secret. Each year at harvest, he filled a sack with his finest fruits and greens and left it by the gate of his farmhouse. In the morning, the sack would be gone.

The Bad Man never troubled Tom or his family again, and if they haven't gone away yet, Tom's family must be farming up there still.

**Author's Note:**

> Varieties of Faith says of Sheor/The Bad Man
> 
> "Sheor (Bad Man): In Bretony, the Bad Man is the source of all strife. He seems to have started as the god of crop failure, but most modern theologians agree that he is a demonized version of the Nordic Shor, born during the dark years after the fall of Saarthal."
> 
> and in ESO, there's a quest involving a cult of the Bad Man
> 
> "In the secluded grove known as Bad Man's Hallows, local villagers have gathered for a festival to placate the Bad Man, the ancient Breton god of crop failure. According to tradition, appeasing the Bad Man will ensure good fortune and a bountiful harvest."
> 
> In the quest itself, a Dremora is posing as the Bad Man, but the superstition of Breton farmers sacrificing a tiny bit of their crop to appeasing the Bad Man could be quite common.
> 
> This tale itself is modelled on Aarne-Thompson-Uther type 1030 folktales: [Crop Division between Man and Ogre](https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/type1030.html) with a change. In this type of folk tale, the farmer outwits the ogre/hobgoblin/devil. Whereas in this tale, the farmer can't really be rid of his ancestors' old landlord.
> 
> There'll probably be more of these Breton folk tales. The idea is to take a look at Breton religion as reflected in its folklore, rather than as the priests hand it down at temple. In this one, there's the tension between Shor as the protective god of the Bretons' human Nede ancestors and as the hated Lorkhan of their Aldmeri ancestors who set the tone for Breton religion. Tom won't acknowledge Sheor as the landlord, but he can't quite get rid of him and is forced to acknowledge him quietly and slightly as the humans' god.


End file.
